The fire cracked softly in the corner of the shack.
Meira had fallen asleep, her back against the wall, a blanket pulled tightly around her shoulders. Outside, the forest whispered with the after-rain breeze—branches swaying, leaves dripping. The storm had passed, but the air remained heavy, like it held its breath.
Lucifer couldn't sleep.
He sat alone, staring at the black sword resting beside him.Its surface no longer shimmered with malice, but the weight of it remained, seeping into the ground and into his bones.
Every now and then, it pulsed. A faint throb. A heartbeat.
He could still hear it.
"You're getting used to me."
"That's good. I was afraid you'd break."
Lucifer said nothing.
He looked at his hands.
They should've hurt.They didn't.
The wounds across his body were closed now, thanks to Meira's makeshift medicine and the cursed blade's price. But there was no ache, no tension—just numbness.
Even pain had become a memory.
"What else are you going to take from me?" he muttered.
The sword hummed. Warm. Intimate.
"Everything you don't protect."
He closed his eyes.
Sleep never came. Only shadows.
He dreamed—or thought he did.
He stood in a white room again, endless and silent. Before him stood the faceless figure from before—violet flames in place of eyes.
But this time… there were two figures.
The second looked the same—tall, cloaked, but its eyes burned red.
The two stood facing each other, unmoving.
Lucifer stepped forward, and they both turned toward him.
"One offers change," said the violet-eyed one.
"The other… revenge," whispered the red.
"You cannot hold both," they said in unison.
Lucifer tried to speak—but his voice vanished in the air.
And then the world shattered like glass.
He awoke with a start.
Sweat clung to his skin despite the cold. The fire had gone out. Meira was still asleep.Outside, the wind howled faintly.
But something was wrong.
The shadows felt deeper.
And the sword was gone.
Lucifer jolted upright, eyes darting around the room.
No trace of the black blade. Just the cloth that had wrapped it, lying empty on the floor like shed skin.
Then—he heard it.
Breathing.
Not Meira's.
Slow. Deep. Inhuman.
He turned toward the doorway—just as the wind blew the door open with a shriek.
A figure stood beyond the threshold.
Cloaked in darkness. Its eyes glowing dull orange. No face. No feet. Just a shifting form, flickering like smoke.
Lucifer's instincts screamed.
But he couldn't move.
"He took what was not his."
"The blade… was not made for a mortal."
The voice was not spoken aloud—it was placed in his mind. Like claws digging into thought.
"Who… are you?" he managed.
The figure tilted its head.
"I am a remnant. A shard of the one who forged the chain that binds your blade."
"And now, I come… to see if you are worthy of holding what was lost."
Suddenly, pain returned.
All of it.
Every wound. Every fracture. Every bruise.Like a dam breaking, his nerves screamed. His knees hit the floor.
Lucifer gritted his teeth, biting back a scream.
"Is this… a test?"
"No.""This… is a reckoning."
The figure raised an arm. The shadows twisted, forming into jagged claws.
Lucifer reached for the cloth, empty.
But as the claw came down—
The sword appeared.
Right into his hand.
But it was different.
It shimmered faintly. As if it, too, was resisting whatever was in front of him.
The shadow's claws met the blade.
Sparks exploded.
Power surged through the shack, blowing apart half the wall. Meira screamed, awoken too late, diving for cover.
Lucifer screamed, but not in fear.
This time—it was rage.
He pushed back, slashing forward. The shadow reeled but did not vanish.It twisted behind him, its voice hissing:
"You cannot wield what you do not understand!"
Lucifer turned, eyes blazing.
"Then teach me!"
He struck again, this time not with instinct—but intent.The blade sang.
A shockwave rippled across the forest.
The shadow shrieked—and dissolved.
Not into nothing.
But into him.
The world went still.
Lucifer stood, trembling.
The sword in his hand pulsed again—slower, deeper.
It had taken something into itself.
And into him.
Meira crawled toward him, coughing from the smoke and dust.
"What the hell was that!?"
Lucifer didn't answer immediately.
He looked at the blade, then at his own reflection in a puddle.
For a moment… his eyes were not just violet.
They were burning orange.